Every Night
by spnesmivida
Summary: Set after Hunteri Heroci when Cas sticks around with Fred. Not really sure what to say for a summary. Destiel a possibility in the future. Let me know what you think please?
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: It's been a while since I've had to write an author's note so don't expect me to get personal or anything. I got this in my head, I don't know where it's going just yet but I would really like some constructive criticism. That said reviews are appreciated. My main focus is to make sure that I kept the characters in character. I thoroughly dislike fics that don't accomplish this so please inform me if I have failed on a certain level.

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.

Set after Hunteri Heroici.

He didn't lie. He wasn't entirely truthful but he didn't lie. He wasn't sure that Fred would survive, and to be fair, part of the old man hadn't. Granted the initial response and success, however, there had been little reason to suspect that the old man was in any danger. Still, the angel stayed. He needed the calmness surrounding the old man. He needed to think.

Dean didn't say anything when Castiel had stated his intentions to stay. That was Dean Winchester. Silent worry, barely concealed panic, a flash of concern briefly seen in his green eyes, quickly hidden; but no words. Castiel wondered what reason for concern existed. Perhaps it is frowned upon to put distance between oneself and one's friends shortly after discussing the idea of suicide.

Castiel watched the old man who was staring out the window, completely oblivious to the world surrounding him and to the guardian angel he had recently acquired. Castiel wondered what such oblivion would feel like. The old man was happy, playing continuous classical music in his head. The angel listened pleasantly. It was a nice change from he had endured riding in the car with Dean. For all his talents, taste in music was not one of them.

He glanced briefly at the phone the Winchesters had given him. Sam had taken to texting him to keep him informed, despite them being apart for only hours at this point. The angel rarely responded anyways. He did not see the point in the constant communication to which humans had taken a liking and truth be told, he despised cell phones. The boys were only a state over. They didn't know what they were hunting just yet, but Sam didn't seem too worried and neither was Castiel. His hunters could handle anything.

The angel paused. He'd never thought about the Winchesters like that, though he couldn't argue the possessive. They were _his_. Despite his flaws, everything he had done was for Dean, and by extension, Sam. But he was wrong, all of it had been wrong. The worst was seeing Dean's disappointment, seeing that warmth and trust that didn't come easy for such a broken man crumble all because of his actions. He had become the thing he hunted, a source of Dean's pain.

It was getting late and Castiel watched as the orderlies helped Fred into bed. He had no idea what he would do at night. He did not need sleep and very little could go wrong with the old man as it was. The chance of something happening in his sleep was even more unlikely.

Castiel walked to the window in the room and stared at the night sky. _Sky._ It had been a long time since he'd admired the sky, even longer since he'd used his true form and taken to it. His demeanor prior to Purgatory had led him to be more appreciative of Earth, ignoring his angelic abilities. During Purgatory, he'd been doing penance, and had essentially grounded himself.

His mind made up, Castiel 'poofed' to a field outside of town, but still near the nursing home, just in case. He found a small concealed ditch, surrounded by tall weeds and grass. He lowered himself into the ditch and closed his vessel's eyes.

The feeling was incredible. The Angel of Thursday cried out in joy as his wings stretched, and his grace shone through. He doubted the existence of human words in any language to describe the feeling, as if every cramp and sore muscle had been restored to its full capacity, as if his mind had been released from human constraints. For all their beauty and wonder, humans were constrained.

He shot into the sky, wings extending as far as possible and then wrapping the around himself, feeling the soft touch of his once source of vanity. He laughed, like a young child in a warm towel after a bath, enjoying the safety of his true form, the high of the wind on his wings and the air in his lungs. _His _lungs. Not his vessel's. Staying within two states of the field, so as to not lose his vessel, Castiel flew. In the sky, time became forgotten. The wrongs of the past, the guilt that so heavily weighed on his shoulders, and the filth of purgatory that he so desperately tried to scrub away disappeared, cleansed by the clear night sky and the sheer joy of enjoying one's true self.

_"Cas._"

It was a soft, deep voice, familiar. Longing. It entered the angel's mind as if floating on the air, soft and quiet, like a prayer.

_"I prayed to you every night…"_

The angel smiled as he remembered Dean's unnecessary confession. He had heard every prayer in the wasteland, every prayer while Dean had been there, at least. Once Dean had left, Castiel had been cut off from the hunter's calls. He should have known that his hunter would continue to pray, even if it was just to him, and even it was just a few words.

_"Good night, Cas."_

The angel smiled softly. "Good night, Dean."

The hunter wouldn't hear him, not in this form. Cas wouldn't risk harming the man, yet again, with his true voice. No, Dean would hear him later, while asleep, in his dreams and be comforted by the deep voice of his vessel, the only form Dean Winchester would ever recognize him as.

This thought threatened to dampen the pure joy currently engulfing the angel's entire being and so he pushed it from his mind. He needed this clarification, the clearing of the conscience and mind. Should he wish to find purpose in life, all else could wait.

He flew for days, never needing rest, pausing only to check on Fred at random intervals and to make sure his vessel had not been disturbed. He lost all concept of time, not distinguishing between day and night; only knowing the difference when that familiar voice came to him on the wind.

_"Good night, Cas."_

Every time he heard the voice, a part of him he didn't know existed in angels swelled with joy. It was as if his true form had amplified everything, even the aspects of himself that had become "more human." He lived for that feeling, that voice that kept him tied to Earth and humanity as he re-experienced his grace and all the joy and temptation it brought him.

Author's Note: So I wasn't originally going to stop here, but it seems like a good place to stop. I have more written out, but it's not typed and I think that almost 1200 words seems like a decently long chapter (especially considering one of the finals I have to write by Thursday evening is 1400 words). Please don't hesitate to point out grammatical mistakes, misspellings, or punctuation or anything. I did a brief proofreading but I'm not perfect. Thank you in advanced and I'll have the next chapter up shortly after Winter Break starts.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Author's Note: So thanks to the people that are now following this story! I appreciate it, it gives me some motivation to continue this.

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. If I did, I'd probably try to find a way to marry Misha Collins. Just saying.

Castiel paused to check on his old charge. No change. The old man would most likely live his life content, playing classical music in his head for the rest of his days. The angel was glad, happy to have done something right after being ridden with wrong for so long. He made to leave, his eyes pausing on a calendar in the old man's room. Cas stopped.

He'd been enjoying his true form for almost a week, five days. Could it really have been that long? He didn't want to believe it, but logic told him that the calendar was not incorrect. He'd been enjoying himself amongst the clouds for five whole days. Then the realization hit him. Dean hadn't prayed to him in for at least two.

Castiel was in the field shortly, content to see that his vessel had not been disturbed. He took a sad breath and then opened the blue eyes of Jimmy Novak. He found the phone he'd been given stowed away in his trench coat, thankful that the battery had not yet depleted itself, despite the long list of missed calls; all of them from Sam.

He dialed the younger Winchester's number. He answered on the second ring.

"Cas?"

"Sam."

"Jesus, Cas. Where've you been?" The angel could hear the anger in the young man's voice.

"Not important. What's wrong?"

Sam paused. "It's Dean. We-"

The angel cut him off. "Where are you?"

"Hospital in Iowa, Hickman road. Outside of room 163."

Cas was staring at same before he had finished the word 'three'. Sam jumped and stuck out his jaw in annoyance while briefly glancing around his surroundings to make sure no one had seen the man appear out of thin air like a Harry Potter character. Cas was oblivious to Sam's annoyance.

"What happened? Where's Dean?"

"In there." Same said, pointing a finger at the nearest door. The angel turned and walked through the door, not heeding Sam's calls as he followed the angel. "Cas, I should warn you-"

He walked into the angel's back with a soft thud. The angel did not seem to notice. He had stopped short inside the room. Dean was lying in a bed, so still he could have been dead. The only sign of life was the number of wires and cords connecting Dean's broken body to various machines making a plethora of humming and beeping sounds like a mechanical orchestra. Cas stared at the hunter, his eyes searching for a piece of him that wasn't bandaged or blue.

"What happened?"

Sam sighed. "We tracked a coven of vamps that were hunting outside of town. It should have been an easy flush. We counted less than a dozen."

Cas waited.

"It was a trap, they were expecting us. Dean in went in first and they got us separated." The younger Winchester looked away, not meeting Cas's eyes. "They beat him to a pulp, Cas. He wasn't conscious by the time I got to him."

"How'd you get out?"

Sam laughed darkly. "They just wanted to have their fun with a hunter. They let me take him, figuring he was as good as dead." He glanced at the still figure on the bed. "They might not have been wrong, Cas."

The angel ignored Sam's last remark and approached Dean. He touched the man's head, the only part of him that was a normal tan color, and sighed. "What is the extent of his injuries?"

"Two bruised ribs, three broken, puncture lung, internal bleeding, and a head injury," Sam rattled off the list. "Cas," he paused. "The doctor's said he may not make it."

Again, the angel ignored him. "Which is the most worrisome?"

Sam paused for a moment. "The lung or the head. Once his oxygen is stable they can fix the bleed and set his arm."

Cas nodded. He lay a hand Dean's chest, gently, and Sam watched as Cas's hand emitted a glowing light that flowed into the broken hunter. Sam glanced at the machines monitoring Dean's heart rate and his blood oxygen level. Neither of the digits changed.

Cas lowered himself into a chair. "The damage was extensive," he said. "It may take over a day for him to breathe on his own, but it will heal faster now."

Sam glanced at the plastic tube that stuck out of Dean's throat, pumping the oxygen into his body that his lungs could no longer provide for him. Dean's body could not do its most basic function, breathe. Sam shook his head, unable to admit his doubts to the stoic angel. The doctors didn't know the extent of the head trauma yet. They wouldn't until he woke up. _If_ he woke up.

How could he have been so stupid? Dean had been itching for an old fashioned hunt. No leviathans, no tablets, no prophets or tablets with the Word of God scribbled on them. Just an old fashioned vampire hunt. Sam couldn't deny his brother that, not after it had been so long since they'd had a "like old times" hunt. They were just starting to feel like brothers again. Sam offered to go in first, but Dean wouldn't have it.

"Can't let you have all the fun, Sammy," he'd said.

Sam couldn't argue, but he should have. Once they got separated, Sam could hear Dean being thrown around, could hear the sickening crunch as Dean slammed into a wall. Sam yelled and hollered and kicked the door until he could barely lift his left anymore. Then he shot lock and barged in, letting holy water fly. Dean lay in the middle of the room, choking on a pool of his own blood. Sam grabbed him, but the vampires made no move towards him. They'd had their fun.

He ran to car, Dean on his shoulders. He'd thrown him into the back of the Impala, nervously eyeing the blood dripping out of Dean's mouth and took off towards the nearest hospital, calling his brother's name repeatedly. He never answered. He lay in the back, struggling for every breath and with every breath came more blood.

"Sam."

Cas's voice brought him out of his thoughts. The angel stared at him, his crystal blue eyes clouded by worry so human it made Sam do a double take.

"Sam," the angel said again. "When did you last sleep?"

Sam stared at him, the words slowly processing in his mind. "I don't know," he admitted. "Before the hunt."

"That was three days ago."

Sam nodded. There was no anger or accusation behind those words, just a statement. A statement made to make him think about how illogical not sleeping really was. Cas cocked his head to the side for a moment before speaking again. "You need to rest."

"But Dean-"

"I am more than capable of keeping watch." The words were harsh, but there was no real ice behind them. Only logic. "I am more qualified to help him right now than you are, Sam. Go rest."

Sam sighed. "Call me if anything changes."

Cas nodded and turned towards the man lying in front of him. He waited as Sam eyed Dean once last time before leaving, shutting the door behind him. He didn't tell Sam, but the injuries were beyond his ability. A bullet hole was one thing, but this was too much, too extensive. Dean's whole body was broken, as broken as the hunter often viewed himself. He'd managed to accelerate the lung's healing process, but he wasn't sure it would be enough, especially without knowing the extent of the head injury.

Cas longed to awaken the hunter in front of him, to see his sea green eyes open and awake with life. He is tempted, but his reasons are selfish. Then again…Cas pauses. He could easily get inside the Winchester's mind. He could see how bad the damage was, see if there was hope in a full recovery. See if there was anything left at all.

The angel jumped when the door opened and a nurse walked in. She smiled gently at him as she began to write numbers on the clipboard she carried. "Hi there, are you family?" she asked.

"A friend." He answered.

"Where's that tall man that hasn't left his bedside?" she asked.

"I sent him to go get rest."

The nurse nodded. "I'm glad someone's here for him." She turned to leave, but something on the angel's face stopped her. "You know, sometimes with accidents like this, the people can hear what's going on around them before they wake up," she said. "You can try talking to him. It couldn't hurt."

She smiled gently at Cas once more, and then left the room. Castiel stared after her. Humans were odd creatures. Still, he wondered if there was truth to her statement. He glanced at Dean lying in front of him and shuffled uncomfortably. "Dean," he said. "Dean, it's me. It's Castiel."

Almost immediately the machine monitoring Dean's heartbeat sped up. Castiel only knew what it was because he could also hear the man's heart beat. Castiel swallowed, a very human characteristic, before continuing. "Sam called me."

At his brother's name, Dean's heart rate jumped. Castiel didn't wonder why, he didn't have to ask. Even in his current state, Dean Winchester's mind was solely on the well-being of his younger brother. "He's okay, Dean. He was here, but I sent him to get rest. I remember you humans need that occasionally."

Dean's heart rate seemed to relax more. "He's worried about you, Dean." The angel's voice caught in his throat. He couldn't bring himself to say it, but he was worried too.

"Dean, I'm going to try something," he said. "It's going to hurt, but if I do this right, you won't remember."

Dean's heart rate didn't change and Castiel put his hand on the hunter's head once more. He sent his grace into Dean's mind, gently awakening him. Dean's green eyes shot open and almost on instinct, Dean Winchester tried to pull the tube out of his throat. "Dean, stop."

Cas's voice was firm. Dean's eyes found him, and Cas cringed at the pain that was pooled in them. "Dean, it's alright. You're safe, you're in a hospital." Dean seemed to register Cas's words and his body fell slightly more limp as the urge to fight slowly ebbed away. The angel sent his grace farther into Dean's mind and began to speak to him gently through this.

"Dean, you need to allow me in," he said. "I just need to see how badly you've harmed your head."

Dean's eyes pleaded with him as the hunter answered in thought. "It hurts, Cas."

Castiel felt a pang of guilt, knowing that what he was doing was selfish because in the long run it would not actually help the injured hunter, but rather give his companions a sense of hope or dread depending on the outcome. "I know, Dean. I just need another minute."

Cas sent his grace even further into Dean's mind, searching for any signs of permanent or life threatening damage. Dean's body got tenser by the second and before long Dean's hand was squeezing Castiel's hand so tight he thought it might break. "Dean, it's okay. You can relax now."

Dean's eyes held unshed tears as Castiel slowly withdrew his grace from the young man's man, causing him to slowly fall back into his slumber. "Wait, Cas."

The angel paused as Dean's eyes poured into his once more. "Where's Sam?"

"Resting."

Dean fought hard to keep his eyes open. "He's okay?"

"He needed rest, but he was uninjured," the angel answered.

Dean nodded and his eyes shut. Castiel took a breath and laid his head on the hunter's bed, resting momentarily. He didn't need sleep, but healing and mind searching had taken its toll on his strength. He closed his eyes, allowing his head to sink further into the bed, however uncomfortable the angle was. When he finally opened his eyes, his realized that in his duress Dean Winchester had not let go of his hand.

And this is where I must leave you. Suggestions, comments, constructive criticism, etc. are always welcome. I have a final in just over seven hours and now that I have typed this up, perhaps my mind can finally shut down and allow me to get some sleep. Please review! I love the follows, but reviews make me happy!


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

**Author's Note: ** I keep forgetting to bold these so that you all can see where the story begins/starts. Ha. Anyways, thanks for the follows and the reviews. I really appreciate it. I am officially done with school for a whole month, thank goodness! I can now spend time relaxing and writing this for all of you lovelies! Anyway, it occurred to me that I never actually answered the big question last chapter about Dean's head injury. No worries, it will all be addressed in time. Please review! I thrive on feedback.

**Disclaimer:**__I do not own Supernatural.

Sam rounded the corner to see Dean's doctor walking out of the room. He jogged to catch him, calling out. "Hey! Doctor..er…" He'd forgotten the man's name already.

"Anderson." The doctor smiled kindly, not put off by Sam's lack of memory. "You're Dean's brother, correct?"

"Yea, how's he doing?"

"Considering his injuries, he's recovering rather quickly," the doctor said. "His blood oxygen levels have greatly improved in the last few hours. At this rate, we can operate on the bleed tomorrow."

Sam let out a sigh of relief and nodded.

The doctor frowned slightly. "I know this is good news, but you need to keep in mind that we don't know how bad the bleed is and we don't know the extent of his head injury."

Sam looked at the doctor. "I'm…uh…What are you trying to say?"

"He's not out of the woods yet," the doctor replied, kindly. "But he is very lucky to be recovering so quickly. He definitely has an angel looking out for him."

Sam tried not to smile too widely at that and the doctor walked away. Sam ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. He was still exhausted. The nap had helped, but he couldn't stand being away from the hospital, not knowing Dean's condition. Cas's lack of responses hadn't exactly helped in keeping him calm either. He walked into Dean's room and couldn't help but allow a smirk creep onto his face.

Cas was still in the chair Sam had left him in, but he wasn't sitting up in it. The angel's head was lying face first on Dean's bed at an angle that could not have been comfortable. Sam walked in quietly, unable to see the angel's face, and approached the bed. If Cas was awake, he didn't show it and Sam's smirk turned into a soft chuckle when he noticed Cas's hand in Dean's. Cas jumped at his chuckle, and Sam ducked as the angel lunged a fist at him.

"Woah, Cas! Chill!" Sam grabbed the angel and shoved him back into the chair.

Cas looked at him, realization hitting his face. "Sam." He cocked his head. "You were supposed to be resting."

"Couldn't sleep anymore," Sam shrugged, settling himself in the chair on the other side of Dean's bed. "You, uh, holding Dean's hand for a reason?"

Cas looked at him but didn't say anything and Sam became too busy reexamining his brother's injuries to push the matter any further. No matter how many times he saw Dean in the hospital, he could never get over the intubation tube that had been shoved down his throat. It made him cringe every time he glanced over it. He watched the steady rise and fall of Dean's chest.

He hated this. He hated waiting. Waiting was the worse. There was no answer, no peace, no confirmation that there would be peace in the future. It was an endless dark tunnel with no sign nor hope of light in the future. Sam sighed again. If he could fast forward this part, skip right to Dean waking up, he would. He'd take the consequences of Dean's injuries, no matter the extent, as long as he could see his brother awake, kicking, and breathing on his own.

"Sam."

Sam looked into Castiel's blue eyes. The angel was watching him carefully. "Yea, Cas?"

"What did the doctor say?"

"That his oxygen levels were looking better," Sam paused. "You did good, Cas."

Castiel ignored the compliment. "Anything else?"

"Nothing we didn't already know…" Sam looked back at Dean. "Has he woken up at all?"

The angel shifted uncomfortably and Sam looked at him. "Cas? Has he?"

"Not on his own."

"What does that mean?" Sam asked, his voice getting louder.

Castiel sighed and looked away. "I woke him up to enter his mind."

"You did what?" Sam's question was nearly a growl, his hands forming into fists.

"I wanted to see the extent of the head injury," the angel responded. "I talked to him, Sam."

"And?!"

"There is a good chance that it was just a minor injury."

Sam stared at the angel. "What do you mean 'good chance'?"

Castiel took a breath. Stupid Winchesters. Always needing everything to be spelled out. Then again, with their history of being tricked and betrayed, he couldn't really blame them. He especially couldn't blame Sam, the victim of nearly every manipulator in the supernatural world. Still, Castiel found the need to be so clear exhausting and boring. English was such a limited language.

"It means from what I could see he should be fine when he wakes up," Cas finally answered.

"It means you don't know," Sam replied evenly.

Castiel looked at the young hunter's face that was daring him to be contradictive. "Sam, poking around the mind is hard, dangerous, not to mention painful for the mind. His whole mind was consumed with pain, both physical and mental; it was hard to see how much damage there was."

"But it didn't look life threatening," Sam clarified.

The angel looked at Dean's face and Sam could've sworn he saw a flash of something cross the angel's blue eyes. He couldn't name it. "No. It's not life threatening."

"Fantastic."

The heart monitor spiked and Sam and Castiel both looked at the screen before focusing on the man in front of them. There didn't seem to be any difference. Castiel wondered if Sam's voice had finally registered with Dean subconscious. Sam seemed to have a similar idea.

"Dean?"

The monitor spiked again and Sam kept talking. "About time, you big jerk, you've been keeping me waiting." He knew he sounded like a class A douche, but his voice said it all.

Dean's heart rate went up, but not a jump anymore. Castiel watched Dean's face, looking for signs of alertness. It was hard to tell under all the bruises. Fresh bruises might look bad, but healing bruises, the sickening yellow kind, were the worst. Castiel was counting them absentmindedly when he saw it. He wasn't sure at first, but there it was again. It wasn't much, a tremor, a flicker of movement behind Dean's eyelids. Sam didn't see it, for which the angel was thankful. No use in giving the boy false hope if Dean wasn't going to wake up just yet.

Sam kept talking, as if Dean could hear him. It was probably selfish, but as long as Dean's heart rate was up it was proof that he could recognize Sam's voice. It spiked once more before going back to normal, but Sam didn't mind. That meant there was hope. Hope that Dean would wake up eventually. The drugs were only meant to keep him comfortable, the doctors said, he body would wake up when it was ready, despite the bleed.

Dean was groggy. He could hear, but all the noises came in distorted, ranging from cotton in the ears muffled to static radio muffled, ups and downs. He was aware of the fact that he was lying down, on a soft surface, not necessarily comfortable, in fact it was worse than most of the motels he'd slept in and that was saying something, but it wasn't concrete. He was more than vaguely aware, however, of the pain that seemed to be racking his entire body from his head to his waist.

Dean tried to remember what had happened, what the last thing he remembered was, but he didn't know where to start. Was it day time? Night time? What was the last state they'd been in? _They._ Sam! He had been with Sam; he had to have been, but where? Had they been hunting something specific? Dean's brain groaned under the unanswered questions forming slowly in his mind, as if all of his thoughts were being processed in Jell-O.

He could hear voices. The sounds were coming in clearer now, and Dean strained to concentrate on what they were saying. It made his head hurt worse, so he stopped for a minute. His hearing returned to him slightly, but he waited to see if the voices would make sense shortly. The wait was terrible. He hated waiting; it was equivalent to sitting on your ass and doing nothing. Still, after a few seconds he could pick out words. That's when he heard it.

_"Fantastic."_

Sam! It was Sam's voice! Sam was there. _"God, Sammy. Thank God…"_ There was a pause in the voices before he heard it again.

_"Dean?"_

Dean tried to open his eyes, but he couldn't. They seemed to be glued shut, or he just didn't have the energy. Judging by the pain felt in every crevice of his body, he figured it was the latter, plus drugs. He longed to open his eyes, to see Sam's face.

_"About time, you big jerk, you've been keeping me waiting."_

So he was hurt. And Sam was worried. His younger brother never called him 'Jerk' without provocation. Never. He wanted so badly to call his sissy little brother a bitch. That's when he realized; his mouth was already open and there was something down it. Dean thought a string of curse words that would've made his father look like an angel. No wonder Sam was worried. He couldn't move, and apparently couldn't breathe.

Suddenly, Dean didn't want to wake up just yet. He didn't want to see the look on Sam's face, like a puppy that had been kicked too many times. He couldn't stand that look, couldn't stand people worrying, or fussing over him. Especially not Sam; no, it was his job to take care of him, not the other way around. The hunter allowed himself to calm down, listening to Sam's voice as his brother talked about the most random things. Dean listened, trying to keep track of how many times he would have called his little brother a girl so that he could tell him later.

Dean started to doze, Sam's voice acting as soothing background noise. It was like white noise, when silence became too quiet. Until it shut off. Dean felt himself jerk awake when he could no longer hear Sam's voice. He waited, thinking maybe the kid had just paused to take a breath or a drink, but no such luck. The voice was gone, the humming and vibrations of the machines had taken its place.

Dean felt himself start to shake slightly. Where was Sam? Why did he stop talking? Was he okay? Did something happen while he had been dozing? His brother wouldn't leave him at the hospital, not like this and certainly not willingly. Dean tried to open his eyes, each time feeling like his head was going to split open, and black dots filled his thoughts.

Something touched his hand. "Dean."

The voice was gruff, but not unkind. Dean new that voice. It was comforting, it was safe, it was loyal and brave. It was heavenly. Realization came slowly for the hunter. The drugs had done a number on his thinking process. The angel squeezed his hand. "Dean, it's alright. Sam just fell asleep. Stop fighting to wake up, you'll only hurt yourself more."

No, he had to see Sam for himself. Not that he didn't trust Cas. The angel knew he'd never live it down if he failed Sam again. Despite Cas's words, every instinct in Dean's body told him to wake up, find Sam, protect him, save him. Dean ignored the angel's request, trying harder and harder to force himself awake, to force his eyes open, and to see where is overgrown not so little brother had gone to.

"Dean, please."

Cas wasn't demanding, he was asking. It was such a human concept, that Dean had to pause to admire it from the angel. To ask, not demand. Demands or not, however, Dean Winchester was waking up here and now and he'd be damned if an angel of the Lord was going to stop him. Or so he thought.

Cas squeezed his hand again and Dean inwardly cringed at how girly, and simultaneously comforting it was. "Dean," Castiel said once more. "Please wait, please let your body heal itself. I'll watch over Sam, and I'll watch over you, just like always…just, please…"

Dean could almost feel his heart shatter. Cas's voice was so genuine, so pleading, so real, so _human_. He didn't know Cas could talk like that, hell, he didn't know Cas could feel. "Dean, I know you're listening. I can see your eyes moving under your lids. You are safe. Sam is safe. Rest now."

Dean refused. He stopped fighting to open his eyes, but he fought to stay aware. There was darkness in his mind, threatening to pull him under. He didn't want to be pulled in. He was scared if he let it pull him in, he wouldn't come out. He wanted to be near Sam, and hear Cas.

He heard Castiel sigh and he scoffed in his mind. It was such a human response for the angel. He felt the angel next to him shift. "Well if you're going to be stubborn…" Cas muttered.

He started to tell stories; stories from before he had raised Dean from hell, stories from before Dean had been born, and from before the modern age. He spoke of heaven, how it wasn't just one place; different people had different heavens because heaven is everyone's personal paradise. He talked of the real Jesus, and how he didn't actually like him, too passive-aggressive for Castiel's taste, but he loved him all the same, because that's what the angels were told to do and he never disobeyed.

Dean listens. The angel's voice is soothing, and Dean's never heard Cas speak of times before they'd met, despite having known and fought side by side for years. It hadn't been a topic of importance while they fought to prevent the Apocalypse and even less so after they'd started it. Through Cas's 'god' streak and Leviathan hunting, it hadn't been a priority. It was nice to hear of stories where Dean wasn't the one killing the monsters; even better to hear stories that didn't have monsters.

Then Cas also stopped. Dean hadn't been listening to that specific story anyway. He'd been starting to doze again when he felt the angel's demeanor change. "I did so much damage in heaven, Dean, here on earth as well."

Dean groaned inwardly. They'd already had this conversation. Cas needed to move on. He'd screwed up; screwed up worse than Lucifer probably. For every transgression, however, Cas had paid a price, and they didn't always fit the crime. He'd been blown up by Lucifer, dissolved by Leviathans, and taken Sam's psychological pain as his own. He'd been dragged to Purgatory and, as if that wasteland wasn't enough, he'd willingly chosen to stay there.

"I shouldn't be here, Dean. I shouldn't have been saved. What purpose could I possibly serve now? You can't even argue with me, Dean. I haven't helped much since I've returned. Crowley's in the wind, the tablet's broken, and you…" Cas paused. "Dean, perhaps it would be better for me to return to heaven."

Dean heard the subtle meaning behind 'heaven' and his eyes shot open, the sudden light blinded him, sending a symphony of jack hammers into his skull. His eyes watered as they tried to adjust and as he tried to blink the pain away. It was like his entire brain was on fire. Dean searched the room for the angel, but Cas wasn't looking at him. He was still holding his hand, though, and Dean nearly passed out trying to squeeze Cas's hand.

The angel looked at him, his blue eyes piercing Dean's green ones. "Dean…"

Dean shook his head. It was all he could do, given the tube in his mouth. His eyes were still watering, and black dots were starting to cloud his vision, but he shook his head. Cas couldn't leave, not again, not when Dean had just gotten him back; just gotten _his_ Cas. Heaven might drive Cas to the edge; the realization, physically seeing all of the damage he'd done, it could break him. The tears were streaming now, as Dean tried to convey all of his thoughts into one look, one hand squeeze.

_"Cas, don't."_

The angel jumped slightly, staring at Dean, eyes widening. Dean stared back at him; tears still falling because he felt like his skull was going to split any second now. He wondered why the angel was staring at him like that, with such surprise and shock. He hadn't done anything. Except prayed.

_"Cas, don't."_

"Dean," Castiel's voice was soothing, and he lifted his hand to wipe away Dean's tears. He couldn't bear to see his hunter like this. He touched Dean's face gently, careful not to agitate the bruises underneath. "Dean, rest."

_"Promise."_

The angel sighed. He may have been alive more than a millennia, but Dean Winchester was the most stubborn human he'd ever had to deal with. "Dean."

_"Cas, promise me you won't leave."_

Dean was seeing triple now; he was starting to wonder when exactly Cas had gotten six eyes and three noses. Still, he fought it. Cas watched the hunter, wishing with all his might that he could alleviate the pain. He contemplated knocking Dean out with his angel mojo and reached out his hand to touch the man's forehead. Dean saw it coming, though, and once again proceeded to shake his head.

_"Cas, I swear to God if you don't promise me right now that your little angel ass is staying on Earth until further notice I am going to rip this tube out of my throat and throttle you."_

The angel couldn't help but smile. He started into Dean's sea green eyes and instantly felt guilty at the amount of pain present there. He nodded, resigned. Dean continued to stare at him, though, and when Castiel placed his hand back on the bed, the hunter reached for it.

_"Promise me."_

"Dean-."

_"Damn it, Cas!"_ Dean's eyes were streaming. His grip on Castiel's hand was increasing; even in his weakened condition, his grip was strong. Cas could feel the knuckles in his vessel's hand popping and wondered vaguely if he'd ever be able to use it fully again. Finally, he nodded. "I promise, Dean."

Dean relaxed briefly and Cas barely allowed the relief to hit Dean's eyes before sweeping his other hand softly across the hunter's forehead and gently knocking him out. Dean's heart rate slowed down and the grip on Cas's hand lessened slightly, allowing some of the blood to return. He touched Dean's head, and carded his hand through Dean's hair. It was a human response, one he'd seen in one of those soap operas that Dean used to watch.

"I promise, Dean. I'll be here every night."

**Author's Note:** So, I apologize if you feel that this chapter was a little slow. I think it turned more into a character development chapter than action. I've finally got some ideas on where this is going to go and I have them written down to help speed up the process. I should update at least once more this week. Thanks for reading, please review and let me know what you think. If anyone is traveling this week, I wish you safe travels. Have a good day!

**Author's Note 2: **Just a side note, I want to say that my thoughts and condolences are with the people of Newtown, Connecticut.


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